


unanswered

by mygoldfishateit



Series: The BAU in Derry: A Two-Part Mini-Opera [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), IT (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical descriptions of rape and murder and suicide, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rated mature because of the nature of Criminal Minds, Rossi POV, and cannibalisim but that’s more of a throwaway comment, canon-typical descriptions of violence, just to keep ya on ur toes :), might be confusing if u haven't read IT tbh, oblique references to rape/murder of minors, there will also be trigger warnings in the notes of each chapter if needed, this will be a series and there will be a second part, will make sense if u haven't seen criminal minds but might not if you havent seen IT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-19 17:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13128108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mygoldfishateit/pseuds/mygoldfishateit
Summary: Gideon and Rossi are part of a team. A two person, low budget, disrespected team, but a team nonetheless. It’s a strange, with a weird tactic, but it works, and they catch unsubs more reliably than any other pairing in the FBI. Everything was looking up... until the pair got assigned to a dead-end three-years-cold case in Maine. Perfect.As they dig deeper and deeper into the town’s past, Gideon and Rossi get more and more unsettled. These facts don’t- can't- add up. There's only one thing clear about this town; whatever happened here should've never happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey ya’ll! before we get going, i just want to thank my amazing and talented beta, mary, for helping me and encouraging me to write this fic. her tumblr is @snowglobegays, and her ao3 is toes-ier (harrytopsok). I'm putting trigger warning in the notes of each chapter if they're relevant, but nothing in the chapters is any worse than what's portrayed in the source material. which. i mean. isn't saying much but
> 
> rough translations for rossi's italian- 'little shit' and 'dickhead'. 
> 
> trigger warning and slight spoilers- there's some discussion of rape, murder, childhood sexual abuse, and suicidal ideation in this chapter, plus a throwaway mention of cannibalism. all of it is presented in the same clinical fashion a profile is delivered in criminal minds, but please stay safe!!

SEPT. 20, 1992  
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

-

“GIDEON! ROSSI! MY OFFICE, NOW!” 

Rossi winced. Due to the open layout of the office they were squeezed into, everyone had heard Chief Cook’s booming voice and had turned to stare at the pair. The BAU, small as it was, was regulated to a few measly desks in the corner of the counterterrorism office. Some days, it felt like the BAU was part of counterterrorism- they shared not only office space, but a Section Chief and a budget. Needless to say, no one was exactly worried about the two being called into the boss’ office. It’s not like it was a rare occurrence, anyways. 

Gideon sighed and they both stood. “Well, let’s go see what he wants this time.” 

“How much do you want to bet he’s going to spin around in his chair like a Bond villain when we walk in?” Rossi said as they walked towards Cook’s office.

Gideon glanced at him. “Bad bet, Rossi. Now, which of us is gonna be in more trouble for screwing up the media in Atlanta? That bet I’d happily take.”

Low blow, Gideon. What, was he supposed to take a break from chasing down a child-murdering unsub for a few placating words to those crows? So what if he did get a little… heated. Sue him, he’s Italian. And they had caught the bastard, didn’t they?

They entered Cook’s office, and sure enough, his chair had it’s back facing them. It only would only swivel to face them when Cook decided they had stewed for enough. Everything was about power moves with Cook- for one, he had no chairs in his office, forcing everyone he spoke with to stand stiffly at attention while in his company. Making Gideon and Rossi wait was no surprise, either. No matter how many times they broke the silence with cleared throats, coughs, or when they shifted their weight, Cook would only face them when he felt like it. This particular waiting period was longer than most, but shorter by far than the longest one they had gotten. Cook had made Gideon and Rossi wait a full five minutes the first time they met him. The two would have known this was typical of any newcomers, and that counterterrorism called it the ‘Slow Roast’- that is, if anyone in counterterrorism had bothered enough to tell them. 

The BAU was a joke to the rest of the office. Their profiling wasn’t seen as a tool that worked; everyone thought they were just two guys stumbling around with blind luck as the only thing bringing success to the cases. The allocation of a chunk of their budget to two random people they’d never met didn’t help much, either. 

Cook’s chair finally rotated around to face Gideon and Rossi, pulling Rossi out of his thoughts and making him snap to attention. 

“So,” Cook started, fidgeting with the pen in his hands in a way that suggested he thought doing so would make him intimidating. “Which of you would like to explain what the hell happened down in Georgia last week?” 

Gideon opened his mouth to talk, being the more level-headed of the two during that case, but was interrupted by Cook. 

“Rossi, how about you?” he said, turning in his chair to stare at Rossi full-on.

“I trust you read my report?” Rossi asked. 

Cook nodded, and gestured for him to go on. 

Rossi took a deep breath to compose himself. Everyone had cases that hit harder than others, and ever since the Galen case, any case that involved children got him a little on edge.

“Well, sir, as you know, there was a sexual sadist capturing white, brown haired boys aged six to nine from parks in middle-class, suburban areas in Atlanta. He would rape the boys repeatedly and then slash their throats, before dumping them face down, wrapped in rugs, in ditches along rural roads a while out from Atlanta. The bodies had their eyes closed upon discovery and were also absent of all blood or DNA evidence, including semen. 

“We profiled a white, brown haired, twenty-five to thirty-five year old male who had been sexually abused extensively between the ages of six and nine, possibly by his father or stepfather. He was using the children he took as surrogates for himself as a child, and was killing himself over and over when he killed the boys. The cleaning of the bodies suggested guilt, as did the way he dumped the bodies, which told us he realized the weight of what he had done after coming back to himself and seeing the bodies. This doesn’t fit the profile of a typical sexual sadist, who would typically sexually abuse the victim for power and would see the body afterwards as a tool that had outlived its use, which is indicative in the way the unsub treats the body after death and how he dumps the victim. The remorse we saw profiled as the unsub being in close contact with children for his work, or potentially even knowing the children through his work. 

“It was more likely that this unsub, being so cautious as to wear a condom and wipe trace evidence off the body, would scout out his victims before choosing one, so we checked to see if the neighborhoods that housed the parks had any schools in common. They didn’t, but they were all in the same school district, which would suggest he was a substitute teacher employed by the district. That fit the profile, as sexual sadists tend to be unable to hold down a job because they’re too volatile, so he could get student’s home addresses and extrapolate which parks the family would visit from there. 

“We went to the schools the children who were abducted attended and asked the administration if they remembered a sub that fit our description. We also visited the classrooms which the abducted children had been a part of and asked the students if they remembered a sub that fit our profile. The man that had subbed at all schools and in every classroom the abducted children attended was named Mike Names. We checked police records for any sexual abuse charges against a male figure in his life, and sure enough, his stepfather Jonathan Names had been convicted of sexual assault to a minor 20 years back. His mother had remarried after Names’ father died in a car accident. He was released on parole for good behavior just before the abductions started, which means his stepfather’s release was most likely Names’ trigger. 

“Names’ father had a cabin in rural Georgia that inherited by Names after his death. We rushed to the cabin and found Names in the middle of tying down his latest victim. We were able to get the child out safely, but Names would not come quietly. He reached for his back pocket, presumably for a weapon, and we had no choice but to shoot him.”

It was silent in the office for a moment. Gideon coughed. Rossi tried to glare at him as discreetly as possible, but had a feeling it wasn’t working based on the almost unnoticeable smirk Gideon was wearing. _Piccola merda._

Cook shuffled some papers around, once again for seemingly no reason other than to look impressive. “Wow, that’s nearly word for word from your report, Rossi. I’m impressed.” Rossi was staring straight ahead, but could feel the amusement and smugness radiating from Gideon in waves. _Testa di cazzo…_

“However, I was talking about the… incident… you had with Atlantan media the last day of your stay there.” Cook interlocked his fingers and placed his forearms on the desk in front of him, bearing his weight in them as he leaned forwards. Again, this change in posture served no purpose other than intimidation. 

Rossi didn’t take the bait. He had interviewed dozens of serial killers, for goodness sake, why did Cook think anything he could do would intimidate him? 

Rossi spoke without breaking eye contact with his superior. “I know I didn’t handle the media as well as I could have and as well as the situation needed.” Gideon snorted next to him, but Rossi kept on talking and maintained his eye contact. “However, given the situation, I think I was warranted my outburst. A child had been missing for 17 hours and, well. I think you know the statistics as well as I do at this point.” Rossi finished, still locking eyes with his Section Chief, waiting for who would back out first,

Of course it was Cook. Rossi had once held a staring contest with a cannibalistic psychopath in an interview whilst said psychopath was describing, in gory detail, how he would carve his victims and the best spices to use on various pieces of the body. Apparently, spleen was wonderful with paprika and cardamom, and paired best with a 1972 Pinot Noir. 

Cook pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Rossi, I agree with everything you said then. We all do! But the fact is the BAU is too new for you to fuck up like this again.” 

Rossi blinked at the curse. Cook was never a man to curse. Rumor had it that if he heard one of his employees cursing he’d give them holiday and deny requests for vacation time, but of course no one could ever provide proof. 

Cook leaned back in his seat. “Fact is, you two are too good at… whatever you call this,” he gestured to Gideon and Rossi with the hand that wasn’t fiddling with the pen from earlier _again,_ which he had apparently picked _back up_ for _no goddamn reason,_ “for me to dole out any real kind of lasting punishment. We need you, as much as it pains me to say.” 

GIdeon and Rossi gaped. They never gotten any sort of praise for their work from their faux coworkers, but getting praise from the Section Chief was a event that had a chance of happening so astronomically small, even entertaining the idea would be ludicrous. 

Cook sighed again. “Look, I can’t pretend I understand any of what you guys do, and I can’t even say I don’t think it’s all just blind luck. But,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out two thin files. “You can’t deny it has results. These,” he tapped the corners of the folders on his desk, “Were specifically requested to be assigned to you by the higher-ups.” He handed the folders to the two agents, but they didn’t open them. 

“How high are we talking here?” Gideon asked, suspicion and curiosity lacing his tone. Rossi felt the same. Why the hell had higher ups requested an unpopular, two-man team to take these obviously important files?

Cook raised his eyebrows. “Classified.” he said. 

Of course it was classified. 

Rossi opened his folder, and saw Gideon doing the same out of the corner of his eye. His eyebrows immediately furrowed when he was what was inside the folder. 

“Wha… this is it?!” Rossi exclaimed in disbelief. All that was in the file was a piece of paper with the name, coordinates, and population of a tiny town in Maine, and a single clipping from the town’s local newspaper detailing the disappearance of a local boy, Georgie Denbrough, and was dated in October of 1988, nearly three years ago. 

“With all due respect, sir, this happened three years ago. This case, whatever it may be, has gone completely cold. I don’t there’s anything we can do with this.” Gideon said, and tried to pass the file back to Cook. 

Cook didn’t take it. “I don’t think you quite understand. If you get _requested_ to take a case from this high up, you _can’t_ deny it. Well, I suppose you could, if you wanted to get fired in the most humiliating and public way you could think of.”

“Yeah, and you won’t even tell us how high up this is.” Rossi mumbled under his breath, too low for Cook to hear but loud enough for Gideon’s ears, while rereading the _singular fucking passage_ yet again.

Gideon subtly knocked Rossi’s shoe with his, telling him to _shut the fuck up if you want to keep your job, idiot_

The article was really more of a blurb, detailing what George was wearing when he disappeared (yellow raincoat, black rain boots) a brief description (4’ 6”, thin, brown hair, blue eyes) and a number to call if you saw him. For an article about a child’s potential abduction, it was surprisingly flat. No adjectives describing the ‘terrible tragedy’ and nothing about George’s personality. In fact, nothing about his family at all. It was like someone had been fed the bare bones facts about the disappearance and immediately regurgitated them onto paper. It was like the author didn’t even care. Rossi could see this article being written in a big city, where journalists were itching for more important story than some kid running away. In a town this small, though, everyone knew everyone. If a kid had been stolen from the streets, the whole town would rally around the family and shun everyone who was brought into the station for questioning. This level of detachment didn’t make any sense. It didn’t fit any sort of profile; nothing about it was typical. Something felt wrong about this town. 

Gideon was still trying to weasel their way out of taking the case when Rossi looked back up. He was trying to argue some point about this being a waste of federal time and resources to have them come up with the same conclusions the local police did. Rossi interrupted in the middle of Gideon’s speech, too impatient to wait for him to finish.

“We’ll take it.” 

Gideon gaped. Cook smiled brightly at Rossi. 

“Great! The bureau has organized you transport, as per usual, but I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a drive since we can't justify two plane tickets when Maine is just a few states away. There will be an SUV waiting for you here tomorrow.” 

Gideon groaned. He hated driving. Rossi had no idea why. Personally, he would take long hours behind the wheel over flying coach on a plane with crying babies. 

Rossi excused the pair, and grabbed Gideon’s arm to haul him out of Cook’s office. Once they were out of Cook’s eyesight Gideon punched him in the arm. 

“What the hell was that?!” he hissed gesturing wildly with the file still held in his hand. “Why did you accept a dead-end case in the middle of nowhere?!” 

Rossi kept walking, paying no mind to Gideon’s theatrics. “Did you read the article?” 

“No. It's not like it was going to give us any information anyways. ” Gideon said with a huff.

Rossi stopped and turned on his heel to face Gideon. “Maybe, if you’d actually _looked_ at the file, you’d see why I said yes! We’ve been to small towns before, and the residents are always pissed one of their own got killed; pissed that one of their own is killing. This town has a population of 974- a textbook small town- so can you explain to me why that article sounds like someone had to tie the authors’ hands to his typewriter in order to get him to write it?” Sometime during Rossi’s outburst, he noticed he had pinned the file to Gideon’s chest with his index finger. Rossi _also_ noticed he had stepped way too close to the other man and had been standing there for just slightly too long. He moved backwards, and felt his cheeks start to heat up. What the hell? Why was he blushing? Gideon was his coworker. Gideon was a _man_. 

Luckily, Gideon seemed way too engrossed in the article to notice Rossi’s blunder. His forehead was crinkled in exactly the way it did when he was focusing on an especially hard profile. 

Gideon looked up suddenly and met Rossi’s eyes, startling Rossi out of his reverie. 

“You’re right.” he apologized. “Sorry I yelled at you.” 

Rossi waved his apology away. “Eh, it’s payback for Memphis.”

Gideon grinned at the memory. Rossi smiled right back. Rossi didn’t know how long they stayed in that hallway, but it was long enough for him to have to shake his head free of the remnants of the moment after Gideon looked away.

“Well, looks like we’re going to... Derry. ” Gideon said, peering at the small text on the paper. He looked up to Rossi, his smile suddenly mischievous. “Better pack warm- we all know you hate the cold.” He teased, referencing the multitude of cases they’ve had in the cold where Rossi wouldn’t stop complaining about the temperature. 

Rossi scoffed at him, but Gideon probably could see the smile on Rossi's face as he turned his back to pack up. Tossing his file down on their minuscule table littered with papers and unfinished reports, he started gathering their extensive paperwork. If Rossi noticed the way papers could never _quite_ obscure the newly-minted memo- well. It must've been the breeze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon and Rossi arrive in Derry, and something... something is definitely up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some gory details in this one, but nothing that would be abnormally violent for canon. We start to see how Rossi and Gideon react to Derry, and there might be a cameo from someone you know towards the end... 
> 
> (Also, to anyone who saw the random-ass line at the end of last chapter, I am so sorry. My beta wrote that in last minute and I stupidly didn't proofread before I posted. I went back and edited that, as well as a few grammar errors. I also fucked up my math, so the whole fic takes place a year later than I had set it before.)

SEPT. 21, 1992  
DERRY, MAINE 

 

After 11 hours, 3 pit stops, and 3 near-death experiences (those damn Jersey drivers), the BAU had officially arrived in Derry, Maine. As per usual, their first stop in the town was the police station. Even though this case didn’t have any time-sensitive factors to it, protocol dictates that any consulting agent check in with the local police department on first arrival to the town, so off to the department they went. 

“Agents, welcome to Derry.” 

Rossi turned towards the sound, and saw a woman in police uniform striding towards them. She had her hair tied back in an army regulation bun, and a friendly smile on her face, albeit one that contrasted with the hard look in her eyes. She was obviously ex-military. As she moved towards the duo, light glinted off her badge, drawing Rossi’s eye to it. Rossi’s eyes widened- he had worked with female Sheriffs and Police Chiefs on the past, of course, but in a town this small, having a woman- or any minority- in such a position of power was almost exceedingly rare. And somehow this woman had done it. 

Rossi schooled his features into a smile as he and Gideon reached out for a handshake. He doubted the Sheriff had noticed his brief lapse in facial control, which was good, since they last thing they needed right now was to start off on the wrong foot. When the BAU dealt with closed cases, the local PD could kick the BAU from the case whenever they saw fit. First impressions had never been as important as they were now.

Gideon spoke first. “Hello, Sheriff McKinley.” Rossi and Gideon had received a memo late last night containing a few notes about the Derry PD, including the Sheriff's name. Otherwise, Gideon would’ve had to ask for it, which couldn't have been a worse way to start off the case. “I’m Special Agent Jason Gideon, and this is my partner, Special Agent David Rossi.”

“Thank you for coming all the way up here. When I dug this case up…” Sheriff McKinley trailed off. “...It was like something told me to call you. C’mon in, I’ll show you two to where you can work.”

They entered the bullpen, and all eyes were immediately on them. Rossi had honestly expected more hostility from the officers present, but they merely went quietly back to their work with not even an eyebrow raised. It should have been relieving to be unscrutinized for once, but it just set Rossi on edge. This case was nothing like he was used to, and it didn’t seem like that would be changing very soon.

McKinley led them into a small room with a few roll out chalkboards and small folding card table. It seemed to be used primarily for storage, and there were filing boxes haphazardly stacked against the walls to make room for its new occupants. 

McKinley opened her mouth to speak, presumably to apologize for the state of the place, but Rossi waved her concerns away. “We’ve definitely worked in worse places,” he said with a chuckle. 

Gideon grimaced, and rightly so. No one mentioned that case. No one. 

There was a lone box sitting on the card table, and Gideon moved to examine it. From where Rossi was standing. the side of the box was easily readable, labeled ‘MISSING CHILDREN, 1989’ in large block letters. Even more noticable, however, was the red ‘CLOSED’ messily stamped over the lettering. 

Gideon opened the box, and his brow immediately furrowed. “Is this all you have?”He asked, disbelieving. He pulled out half a dozen slim folders with names scrawled across the top. 

McKinley nodded, and Rossi’s eyebrows rose. This is what the Bureau had wanted them to check out so badly? The BAU couldn’t get the higher-ups to approve a case ninety percent of the time because of purportedly ‘insufficient evidence’, and it looked like all they had to go on here was a name and an age for each missing child.

Gideon put the files down on the table and turned his piercing stare to McKinley. 

Rossi knew that look; it was the look Gideon got when he went in to interrogate an unsub or interview a serial killer. Rossi settled back onto the wall, crossing his arms and settling in to watch. This should be good.

“How did you become a Sheriff, McKinley?” Gideons flat tone and face made McKinley bristle, but Gideon didn’t pause to let her speak. “I mean, in a town as small as this, you must’ve gotten quite the backlash, Jane. Can I call you Jane, Sheriff?” 

The look on McKinley’s face answered that question for her. When the silence in the room made it clear she was expected to answer his question-that-wasn’t-a-question, she sighed and rolled her shoulders. 

“If you must know, I wasn’t voted into this position, like is traditional. After our former sheriff was killed, the state stepped in and appointed me since I had the most experience than anyone else in the department.” She looked to the side, lost in a memory. “The first few days working the job were hell. No one would cooperate with our officers, and crime skyrocketed.” After a moment, she met Gideon’s eyes again with a grim smile. “I’ve gotten it under control since then.” 

“The last sheriff here was killed?” Rossi interjected, causing McKinley to look over at him, surprised, like she had forgotten he was there. 

“Yes. Murdered, by his own son, actually.” She gestured to the files on the table. “Same kid who we think killed these kids. Working theory is he had a psychotic break after his father’s abuse got to be too much for him to handle.” At Gideon and Rossi’s glance to each other, she elaborated. “Everyone who lived here knew Butch- the former sheriff- beat on his son. No one reported it since Butch could have them arrested in the blink of an eye.

Henry- the kid- was a bully, as well. Allegedly, he rubbed a Jewish kids face into the snow so hard it bled.”

Gideon looked murderous. 

“There was nothing we could do if we wanted to keep our jobs, Agents.”

“So, what, you just turned the other cheek?” Rossi spat. Gideon gave him a warning glance, but Rossi couldn’t find it in himself to care. “These are kids, for god’s sake!” 

“Rossi, enough.” Gideon cut in. I agree with you, but there’s nothing we can do. His eyes said. We’re here on invite, remember? 

Rossi grumbled, but settled back onto the wall. Gideon was right; they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Gideon turned back to the sheriff. “You said the Bowers kid killed these kids, so why is this box labeled missing?”

“We never found the bodies of those children,” She said, nodding to the files on the table. “We found the Sheriff’s body after he we sent a deputy to check up on him after he didn’t come into work. We found the kid wandering the streets a few days later, covered in blood, clutching a bloody pocket knife, and muttering to himself. We only realized what he was saying after we apprehended him; kill them all.” She shifted, probably because she was disturbed by the case. “Judge let the kid off on an insanity plea, and he’s serving a life sentence at the Juniper Hill Asylum.” 

There was a beat of silence before Rossi spoke up. “Why did you call the FBI in on this? Seems pretty cut and dry to me.” It really didn’t, but Rossi wanted answers. Being antagonistic had worked in the past, and it would work now. Gideon didn’t even give Rossi a warning stare- he had seen this technique used in the past and trusted that it would work now. 

McKinley shifted her gaze to Rossi, and by the look in her eyes Rossi knew he had her. Hook, line, and sinker. he thought. Suck it, Cook. 

“None of the evidence fits, and you know it!” She snapped. Good. Anger would make her reveal more than she intended to. “I thought the FBI would at least send smart agents to deal with this.” She huffed in anger. “Instead I get some hippy-dippy shrinks with a badge. I should’ve left this where I found it.” 

Suddenly, her demeanor changed. The fire faded out of her eyes and was replaced with a hazy, far away look that Rossi recognized as the same one her deputies working in the bullpen had when the BAU first entered the department. She straightened, staring into the distance, and if Rossi didn’t know any better, he would’ve said she looked like she was listening to something. After a moment, hazy look still in her eyes and a smile plastered onto her face, she turned back to the two men. 

“My apologies, Agents. My emotions got the best of me for a moment. I’d like to apologize for my actions, and respectfully request you stay here to investigate this case further.”  
Gideon’s brow furrowed in bewilderment, and he looked to Rossi to make sure he wasn’t the only one seeing this. 

Rossi shrugged, just as confused. 

“Er… Your apology is accepted, Sheriff,” Gideon said, usually apathetic face and tone colored by his confusion. “We will be taking this case.” 

McKinley nodded to the duo, in a parody of a bow. “Thank you. I know you’ve had a long drive, and would probably like some rest, so I could give you the directions to your motel, If you would like?” The two nodded mutley, still partially in shock from her complete 180. She led them to her desk, where she handed them a slip of paper with their directions printed onto it in a neat, flowing script. She then walked Gideon and Rossi to the door of the precinct, and told them to drive safely. It wasn’t until Rossi had pulled out of the parking lot that he processed what just happened.

“What the hell happened in there?!” Rossi exclaimed, making Gideon jump in his seat. Oops. “Sorry,” he muttered, but didn’t really mean it. His mind was still spinning. 

Gideon breathed in and out deeply and rested his head against the headrest, eyes closed. “Can we please wait until we get to our rooms to figure that out? I need to..” He circled his hand in the air, trying to grasp the right word. 

Rossi’s attention was immediately captured by the simple action. Dammit, eyes on the road, David. 

“...process.” Gideon finished, and Rossi nodded, understanding. He felt like they were going to need to ‘process’ a lot on this trip. 

After a moment of silence, he glanced over at his partner to see that Gideon’s eyes were still closed. Rossi’s eyes definitely did not not linger on the long expanse of neck Gideon had bared, and he reached over to poke Gideon in the shoulder. Hard. “Don’t fall asleep on my yet, kiddo. You have to navigate, remember?”

Gideon glared at Rossi, rubbing his arm. “Okay, number one, I’m only a year younger than you. Number two, the directions are driving straight and then taking a right turn. Or are you getting too old to remember that now?” 

That little shit. 

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Listen to your elders, Jason.” 

Gideon huffed, but sure enough, grabbed the piece of paper with the directions on it. Rossi smirked. 

“Wipe that smile off your face, David. It’s unbecoming of a man of your age.” 

~

Rossi strode up to the front desk of the motel, which had a bored looking teenager sitting at it. He sat with his feet pressed against the desk’s edge, and used the leverage to twist his spinning chair as he sat. He was absorbed in some comic book, an X-Men issue if the cover was to be believed. Rossi stood at the desk, Gideon behind him, and waited for the teen to notice them. He didn’t, too absorbed in the comic. Rossi cleared his throat, and struggled not so smile as the teen flailed in surprise and tipped his chair accidentally. He landed on the floor, long limbs akimbo and glasses askew. He hurriedly stood and righted his chair. He cleared his throat, and straightened his glasses. His mop of black hair looked like a bird had nested in it for an entire spring, but Rossi didn’t have the heart to tell him, definitely not cluing the kid in because he looked hilarious. Definitely not.

“How can I help you today?” The kid’s voice cracked when he said help, and Rossi couldn’t smother a small smile this time. Walking disaster, this kid was. 

“Reservation for two, should be under Rossi or Gideon.” Rossi said. The kid- Richard, judging by his nametag- tapped a few keys on the computer and pulled up their file. 

“Could I see some ID, please?” Richard said, turning back to the two men. They flashed their badges at him. His eyes widened. 

“FBI? What are you guys doing in this shithole?” He blurted out. His eyes widened and Rossi had never seen someone look like they wanted to eat their words more. Richard opened his mouth to apologize, but Rossi cut him off with a chuckle. 

“It is a bit of a shithole, isn’t it, Gideon?” Rossi elbowed Gideon, but Gideon remained stoic. 

“You’re no fun.” Rossi said as he tucked his badge back in his pocket. He turned back to the receptionist. “We’re here reviewing a closed case from three years ago, seeing if we can get a clearer picture about what happened.”

Richard stared at his computer screen, evidently deep in thought. “Three years ago… Are you guys talking about the disappearances?” He looked back at the agents, worrying his lip between his teeth. 

Gideon and Rossi glanced at each other. It’s normal for small-town residents to know about big cases such as this one, but this kid looked worried about something. They were back on the case. 

“What’s it to you, Richard?” Rossi asked, stance relaxed. He needed this kid to trust him. 

Richie looked confused at the use of his name. “How do you… oh right, the name tag. I, uh, actually go by Richie. And it’s not anything to me! I promise!” He raised his hands once he saw Rossi’s eyebrow raise when Richie avoided the question. “It’s just uh.” he swallowed, looking down at his desk while he fiddled with a pen. Textbook ADHD, Rossi thought, and filed that information away. 

“My best friend, Bill, his little brother was killed. I knew a few of the other people too. I-I mean this town is so small everyone knows everyone and I went to school with all of them, but the older guys- we called ‘em the Bowers Gang- chased us around a lot.” He cleared his throat.

“Is one of your friends the kid that Henry Bowers snow burned until he bled?” Gidon cut in, voice cold. 

This time it was Rossi who gave the warning glance. Gideon was Jewish, and this kid was bullied severely for being Jewish. It wasn’t hard to see why Gideon was worked up, but this wasn’t this time or place for it. Once Rossi saw Gideon’s eyes calm, he turned back to Richie.

“Y-yeah, that’s Stan. Stanley Uris. His dad is the town’s Rabbi and the Bowers Gang had been giving him shit for it as long as I’ve known him.” 

Richie was clearly nervous, but determined, judging by the look in his eye. Determined to do what remained to be seen.

“Can we ask you some more questions later, kid? Tomorrow, maybe?” 

Richie shrunk back in his seat a little. “My parents would kill me if the feds came to our house looking for me.” He looked up, straight into Rossi’s eyes. “I can meet you after my shift tomorrow though; I get off at 7pm.”

Rossi nodded, confirming. They stood there for a second before Richie realized they still needed their keys. His eyes widened and he rocketed up from his seat to grab them. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, flushing with embarrassment. “You guys are in A23, which is straight down the hall to your right.” Richie sat back down, resumed his position, and went straight back to his comic book. 

Rossi and Gideon shared a glance, shrugged, and started down the hallway to their room.

~

Rossi took a step inside the room and groaned. “I’m gonna kill that kid.” 

The room was decently furnished (for a motel); there was an armchair in one corner and a desk against one wall. The en suite bathroom wasn’t large by any standard, but it did have the added benefit of a shower spout at a decent height. None of these things were what attracted Rossi’s ire, however; that honor went to the full sized bed in the middle of the room. The singular full sized bed. 

Gideon poked his head around Rossi’s (taller; suck it Jason) shoulder, and sighed. He patted Rossi’s back in sympathy, and that two seconds of contact absolutely did not send sparks of electricity down Rossi’s spine, and did not make him suppress a shiver.

“We can probably get our room switched to two twins down at the front desk,” Gideon suggested, and Rossi nodded along. Or, if worse came to worst, he could ask for a cot. Sleeping with Gideon in the same bed… that would be that absolute worst way to deal with… whatever was happening to him. Which wasn’t happening. 

Rossi turned on his heel and stalked towards the front desk, sure to make that little shit pay. 

~

He couldn’t get them another room. Apparently some kind of family reunion was happening in Derry right now and every double room was booked. Rossi was sure he looked downright murderous when he found out, if they way Richie stuttered something about a cot and scampered into the back. 

Now, here Rossi was, awake because his cot was more uncomfortable than the damn floor. The only reason he wasn’t sleeping there instead was his pride, and as he stared at the ceiling there was something niggling at the back of his head, like something he really needed to do but had forgotten about. But what?

“David,” came a whisper from the pitch darkness, “Just come up here already.” 

Rossi sat up and turned on the light, all questions f what he had forgotten gone from his mind in an instant. “What?” he said, not even bothering to whisper. 

Gideon had his eyes screwed shut against the sudden burst of light. “Jesus, Rossi, warn a guy!” He rubbed his eyes and turned to face Rossi. “I don’t bite, you know.” 

The way the light bounced off of Gideons face made the creases in his face look softer than he did in the daylight. Instead of a weathered man who’d seen enough to fill a million lifetimes, he looked young. Full of youth, something that was rare in their line of work. As they studied each other’s faces, the room filled with something fragile, something that felt like it could break if either one of them so much as breathed wrong. 

“Are you sure?” Rossi whispered, afraid the moment would shatter into a million pieces once the words left his lips. Instead, it changed into something more palpable. 

Gideon nodded, eyes holding an emotion Rossi couldn’t- or wouldn’t- decipher. Were Rossi’s eyes expressing the same thing? Did Gideon see what Rossi saw? Instead of asking, Rossi silently stood and crossed over to the other side of the bed and slid underneath the covers, letting his questions burn inside his lips, searing themselves into his skin. 

Gideon turned off the light, and Rossi laid on his back, eyes searching for the darkness for… something. Anything. Anything to tell him what to do next. He laid, and he listened to Gideon’s breath until it slowed, and until it betrayed its own creator’s lapse into unconsciousness. He laid, he listened, and he searched, until his eyes closed of their own volition, and he slipped into an uneasy slumber. 

When they woke, they didn’t speak of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know that Derry having a female sheriff is extremely unlikely, and definitely would not happen in canon, but once I had the idea to write her in I couldn't get her out of my head!! So, I tried to make it as accurate as possible, and made Gideon and Rossi be dickish towards her since. Y'know. Nineties.)
> 
> comments? love her. kudos? amazing. my beta mary? i owe her my life.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, and bookmarks really do make me write faster!! im a slut for feedback
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr! my url is @mygoldfishateit


End file.
